


\rescue/

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Death, Gen, canon minor character death, mentions of long illness, no happy ending in sight, this is not where happiness lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27694168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: Rushing water, pummeling raindrops crashing into every surface, fighting to take over the conversation. In the brief moments before they were disconnected, Gil promised Bright a rescue.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	\rescue/

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tess_genor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess_genor/gifts).



> for my wonderful friend, tess, the only person in my life who shares considering mcd a gift. i hope you have a wonderful day <3
> 
> huge thank yous to the lovely wonder_boy for bouncing ideas to get it to somewhere near tess-level worthiness :)

Rushing water, pummeling raindrops crashing into every surface, fighting to take over the conversation. They rammed into the precinct windows equally hard, yet all of Gil’s focus was on the man at the other end of the line, his words frantic and tinny as they pinged off the walls of his enclosure. A trapped animal with more than a drop to drink, rising to his station at the very tip top.

In the brief moments before they were disconnected, Gil promised Bright a rescue. Begged him to hold on. Held captive by a suspect who knew where, the kid’s harried voice cracking over the line was engrained in Gil’s mind, repeating over and _over_ like a single track mixtape that hadn’t yet broken from its reel.

 _Drop, drop, drop_ , the bass sounded, thrumming in Gil’s head as he looked over the shoulder of one of the unis from Tech. Bright had relayed he suspected he was tied into a culvert carrying a river under the city, and the team was left figuring out which one so they could save him. The captor had left Bright in a lover’s lane of sorts, relying on the inclement weather to do the rest of his dirty work. What typically could be a casual, makeshift boat ride on a dry day would quickly turn deadly in the torrential downpour.

The uni pointed at a map on screen, rattling off location details that JT and Dani typed into their phones faster than Gil could process them. “You’re sure that’s my kid?” Gil asked, rubbing his brow. He immediately corrected himself with a huff, “That’s Bright’s location?”

Affirmative triangulation on Bright’s phone, the only thing Gil remembered from the dialogue. The team rushed for the door, Gil piggy-backing on their momentum and following them to a department-issued SUV. JT took the driver’s seat, Gil too distracted to navigate them safely in the downpour. Gil would swear the detective wasn’t driving fast enough, but the speedometer disagreed, pointing up, up, up, onward to his kid. Even if JT had been a few miles per hour off of Gil’s usual pace, it was an acceptable tradeoff for not ending up wrapped around a building when the kid needed all of them — Dani navigating from the back seat before the GPS could chime in, JT tightly gripping the wheel, and Gil stepping on his own gas pedal and grinding his teeth enough for the lot of them.

The SCUBA team was already on scene and making their way into the culvert with gear in tow when they arrived. The police tape they ducked under cordoned off a small, abandoned patch of grass and the stormwater system. Had it been a pleasant day, the gathering could have passed for a city maintenance crew upgrading the infrastructure. Instead, the SCUBA team’s heavy wetsuits reflected the chill of the rain and roaring runoff, barely any skin visible on their faces, the black material a foreboding procession into the abyss.

The patch of grass was more water than green, oversaturated and drowning in the downpour, slipping below the surface and emerging crying for reprieve. It was worse than the day they buried Jackie, dark umbrellas sheltering them from the sudden popcorn storm, making it impossible for tears to pass as rain. The dirt tipped toward mud by the time they finished, no attempt at enclosure preventing water from creeping into their shoes, mixing into slop. A souvenir left behind in the leather that could never be repaired.

This was worse, the remnants of a tropical storm dumping more rain than the city could handle. Jackie’s fate had been promised and staggered out over years — the kid had been missing since lunch. A couple hours wasn’t enough time to prepare for future moments slipping between his fingers, draining out into the ocean. Rescue. He’d promised a rescue, which buoyed him as the water kept rising.

Several inches on the ground sloshed around their feet, and the culvert was visibly near full where the SCUBA team worked their way in. Gil couldn’t pull his eyes away, as if he looked close enough, he’d spot his kid, blue eyes shining out of the gloom. A beacon blinking _save me, I’m here, save me_ , beaming Bright’s voice even though he couldn’t speak.

None of them had any umbrellas up — the torrential downpour made it pointless. Water curled down Gil’s face, making it nearly impossible to see anything. He’d blink and get a clear view of the activity at the culvert entrance, only for the world to blur again on the next drops. His restless feet traced a continual line at the edge of the tape, yet he didn’t leave any lasting impression in the concrete. His existence at the scene was as transient as the raindrops that washed away downstream.

“Boss, they’ve got this,” Dani encouraged as Gil paced back and forth.

“Sure the guy’s giving them an earful,” JT added.

The only thing they were full of was water. Bright’s voice would be a welcome addition, breaking through the drone of Mother Nature’s pounding. “My kid…” Gil mumbled.

“They’ll find him,” Dani assured. Gil pinched his lips together, biting his words, realizing he was speaking, not thinking.

The culvert kept filling. Even at their slight distance to give the SCUBA team space to work, water ran above their ankles, ruining their loafers. Every soggy step carried a _squish, squish_. This wasn’t a leave behind a permanent reminder of their day situation — their shoes would be ruined.

“C’mon, _Bright_ ,” Gil leaked his mantra into the air. Tipping his face upward, he accepted the punishing raindrops hammering his eyes and mouth. Spat out what he could, mouth immediately filling again, testing how much he could stand.

Legs shaking from nerves made it difficult to stay upright, so Gil crouched, Dani and JT flanking either side of him like they were there to catch him in case he needed help. Gil didn’t need help — he needed his kid back in front of him. Sopping wet rat, he could deal with. This waiting business was useless. Awful. Only a select few in the NYPD were part of the elite SCUBA team to do search and rescue — his detective squad was powerless to offer anything in the situation.

Waiting. Raining. Raining. More water than air, weighing them down with additional burden. How many pounds could he wring out of his jacket pockets, his thick sweater, his trousers down to his socks? Drop — Gil didn’t do enough to remind his kid to wait for backup. Drop — what if his kid was injured? The whole gushing bucket of Mother Nature’s fury — what if they were too late?

What if every bit of this day was worse than Jackie? What if goodbye was a garbled promise of rescue lost in a game of telephone? Blue eyes staring into the murky water — _blink, blink, blink_ no response.

“We’ve got a visual!” a shout rattled over the radio.

Gil gasped and raindrops poured into his mouth, threatening to take away his oxygen. Coughs shook his chest as water slipped down the wrong pipe, burning as he hacked it out of his throat. His eyes stung from the exertion, tears, the exertion, tears, the rain, tears as he struggled to b - r - e - a - t - h - e. He couldn’t _breathe_. He held his breath, counted steadily, tried to stave off panic, but was right back to gasping again, fighting hyperventilating while they waited for confirmation that there had been enough air left at the top for Bright to breathe, that they’d gotten there in time. They’d moved as fast as they could, broken their own record of fastest arrival time. Surely that had to be —

“It’s a phone,” the radio reported.

Gil’s knees slammed into the concrete, his shout a primal rip through the belly of the storm. This was _way_ worse than Jackie — they weren’t even reporting a visual on a body to bury. His kid’s whole existence had disappeared on a walk to lunch, flushed out with the day-old smoothies.

 _No_.

Gil lunged forward to look for the kid himself, but knees scrabbling on the concrete, he didn’t get very far. Dani and JT’s grip tugged him back to the living, holding him up on either side, keeping him from washing away. Keeping him from charging into a culvert that only led to an ending.

“There’s time to keep looking. Another drain, something,” Gil protested, trying to wrench his arms loose. “Keep looking for my _kid_.”

The pit deep in his gut argued there wasn’t. With the amount of water flooding the storm drains and still rising further, the chance of survival was slim. Plus, they didn’t have any leads as to which one in the city the kid might be in. Maybe he was in this one, and they just couldn’t see him.

“Look again. _Please_.” He didn’t know who he was pleading with — he just needed someone, anyone to listen.

“Team is pulling out — it’s too dangerous,” the leader of the SCUBA team relayed. “Very low visibility.”

“No, you don’t _understand_ — “

“Boss — “ Must have been JT talking to him, but there was a deluge between him and processing any thoughts besides his kid.

The SCUBA team reemerged, a black procession of suits marching back to their van, blue tanks standing out amongst the wash of greyscale. No blinks, no chatter, no beacon of Bright’s life. Nothing, as cold and empty as the silence after Jackie’s last breath exited their bedroom. He clutched his ring to the base of his finger on the off chance it tried to slip away to join them. Kneeling listless in the water, Gil poured into the street, reaching for some way to be with his kid. Choking on rain and memories of the feeling of nothingness that slammed back into the present like four years ago was today, and he was too late to hear Bright’s exit.

Slumped, more water than man, Gil’s whole world washed away into darkness.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
